


Under My Fingers

by VeriLee



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Art Teacher Ben Solo, Awkwardness, Crushes, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Massage, Massage Therapist Rey, Reylo - Freeform, Soft Ben Solo, These Two Mushy Nerds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 12:39:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17244359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeriLee/pseuds/VeriLee
Summary: Rey Johnson is a professional.Really.And Ben Solo is just another client; just another person seeking relief after an injury. He’s a man in pain; he doesn’t need her practically drooling over his body. Even if it is a very stunning body. Even if the moles scattered across his skin do form a constellation that she wants to trace and name a new zodiac sign for.---Rey is a massage therapist struggling to maintain professionalism when her crush walks into her practice.A prompt fill for @reylocalligraphy who asked for "Massage + First Kiss" for a Trope Mash-up.





	Under My Fingers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [reylocalligraphy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reylocalligraphy/gifts).



 

* * *

 

 

Rey Johnson is a professional.

_Really._

This is no Backpages or Craigslist deal; she’s a trained, licensed massage therapist, thank you very much. Oh, she’s had to dismiss a couple of clients who _clearly_ showed up with the wrong idea, but for the most part, things go smoothly. The majority of her traffic comes from referrals, patients of a local physical therapy clinic seeking massage therapy to complement their PT treatment, though she has non-medical related customers as well.

She helps people to relieve tension and sore muscles and find relaxation. She’s good at her vocation, and she is _professional,_ dammit.

So why can she not keep her heart rate calm or her face from burning?

Ben Solo is just another client. _Just another big, beautiful brick house of a client…_

_Stop it!_

He’s just another person seeking relief after an injury. He’s a man in pain; he doesn’t need her _practically drooling_ over his body. Even if it is a very stunning body. Even if the moles scattered across his skin do form a constellation that she wants to trace and name a new zodiac sign for.

_No! She can’t play dot-to-dot on a client’s back._

At least his aggravated muscles are confined to his shoulders and back so he spends his entire sessions laying on his stomach; she can do her job without him noticing that her face is roughly the color of a lobster.

Well except when she greets and dismisses him, anyway. Maybe he’ll assume she has recently acquired a severe sunburn.

To be fair, it’s not as if this reaction is _normal_ for Rey. She’s had all manner of very attractive (and unattractive) clients on her massage table and she’s never before had the urge to roll them over and smash her mouth against theirs. In that, Ben is a special case.

And also in fairness, the inklings of this…this _interest_ began long before the first time she had him lying on the table, wearing nothing but a sheet, with her blushing like a teenager with a crush rather than a professional who had trained for two years and worked in the field for four more since.

But he isn’t just her client. She is also his student, in the art class ( _watercolor basics_ ) she’s been taking Wednesday nights. She had signed up at the urging of her friend Rose, whose insistence that they needed a bit of culture in their lives had led them all the way to…enrichment classes at the local rec center.

But the classes are enjoyable, and for Rey – who spends so much of her life focusing on the _practical_ , making sure bills are paid and duties completed, a holdover from a childhood spent largely taking care of herself, and sometimes her foster siblings as well – the creative outlet is more than fun, it’s incredibly freeing.

And so, ok, she probably has spent _a bit_ too much time staring at her instructor during those classes. _But how is she supposed to learn if she doesn’t watch closely?_

But. Rey expected Ben to remain firmly in that world, not walk through the doors of her practice with a doctor’s note recommending eight weeks _(two months?!)_ of weekly treatment. Fate couldn’t even give her a pass and let this be a one and done thing.

They are on week three now and it is _so_ awkward. She notices the softness and warmth of his skin entirely too much when she’s working his muscles and is then flooded with guilt because she _really, really_ shouldn’t be focusing on that _oh, Stars_ her mind wanders to places that are decidedly _not_ professional.

To add to that, he’s a talker. Rey has had very quiet and very chatty clients. She wouldn’t have pegged Ben Solo as the latter.

Because aside from giving direct instruction, he really isn’t particularly verbose as a teacher. He conveys a lot with few words as he demonstrates the technique, and then he circles the room, checking in on students.

But here, he peppers the air with questions – is she enjoying the class, has she considered others, has massage therapy always been her plan, where did she grow up?

It verges on babbling, really. Rey figures he hasn’t been in this situation before – the expectation of trust and respect is a two-way street and it isn’t uncommon for newcomers to be nervous about baring themselves – literally – for a massage treatment. _(And here comes the guilt again because while she keeps her hands in check, Rey’s thoughts are…less than ethical.)_

Usually, Rey is good at comforting clients and helping them relax. Usually, she isn’t just as nervous as they are. With Ben, however, she finds herself stumbling over the simplest sentences in her replies.

At the end of the session, she excuses herself so he can redress in privacy, and reminds him to stop by the front desk on his way out to schedule his next appointment.

She only says “um” twice while giving the standard spiel and just barely bumps into the door-frame in her hurry to leave the room. Improvement.

 

* * *

 

Three weeks later, Rey heads to the final Wednesday watercolor class of this session. Rose thinks they should sign up again, but Rey tries to press for the Conversational French class instead. It’s not that she doesn’t like the subject. And it’s _certainly_ not that she doesn’t like the instructor. But Rey feels like she should remove herself, though she’s not ready to explain that to Rose.

She sets up her station, fetching a couple sheets of watercolor paper from the back of the room and, after glancing at the items Ben has laid out for this week’s still-life, begins to open tubes and fill her palate with the right colors.

Ben walks in, dressed head to toe in black, and Rey tries _desperately_ not to think of the fact that a little more than two hours ago he had on substantially less and she her hands on _all of that._

 _No. It wasn’t like that at all. She really has_ got _to control her thoughts._

Somehow, Rey manages to find her focus and as the class progresses, she gets lost in her painting, searching for the shapes in the arrangement of bottles and flowers in front of her, rather than painting what her mind _tells_ her an orchid or a wine glass looks like. She’s so intent on adding shadows that she doesn’t hear Ben approach and she jumps slightly when he speaks.

“You’ve made a lot of strides in a short time,” He says, and his voice is smoother than at his massage sessions; he’s truly in _his_ element here, “With more practice, you could really excel.”

“Thank you,” Rey mumbles in reply, a slight blush coloring her cheeks.

“Are you signing up for the next session?” he asks, and if Rey didn’t know better, she’d think he actually sounds _eager_ to hear the answer.

“Um, no. My friend and I were just dabbling,” Rey says. “I think we’re going to take the conversational French class next. It also meets on Wednesdays.”

“Oh. Are you planning a trip soon?”

“No…just needed a change. It sounded fun.” Rey forces a (hopefully) nonchalant smile and shrugs. Out of the corner of her eyes, she sees Rose roll her eyes. Rose took four years of French in high school and two in college. She could probably teach the class that Rey is dragging her to.

“That’s too bad. You really are a natural.” And Ben actually sounds _disappointed?_

_No. No, Rey must be imagining things._

 

* * *

 

French class is _not_ fun. The teacher, a snooty ginger named Armitage, is a bore with absolutely no interpersonal skills.

Rose and Rey quit after two weeks and Rose takes Rey to a French restaurant instead.

“This is the important stuff,” she says when their meal arrives.

Rose only makes one teasing comment about Rey inexplicably avoiding _that hot art teacher,_ bless her.

 

* * *

 

On the day of Ben’s last appointment, Rey feels relieved. But also a little sad. Ok, time to admit it. She doesn’t just think he’s hot or pretty in a vague way. This is a full-on crush. If she were fifteen years younger, she’d be doodling hearts around their names on her Trapper Keeper.

She can’t help it, ok? His awkward chitchat every session became something to look forward to, and she feels like she kind of _does_ know him by now. She doesn’t even blush quite as furiously anymore – slightly pink cheeks instead of vermillion all over her face.

Not that she’s going to do anything about it.

And she stopped taking his class, so this is the end.

A professional would not be so melancholy at the prospect. But when it comes to her feelings about Ben Solo, Rey has a hard time keeping that line drawn. She might as well admit that too.

_She’s going to miss this._

“I’m going to miss this.”

Rey startles. The words are her own, but not the voice.

_Did...did he really just say that?_

“Um. If your insurance won’t cover any more medically related sessions, private pay is always an option,” Rey rambles.

“Let me rephrase that.” Ben shifts his arms so he can push himself up a little, and turn his head to face Rey. “I’m going to miss _you.”_

Rey had been leaning over Ben to use her elbow to knead the muscles in his upper back. His sudden shift in position has brought his face _very_ close to her own.

“Oh,” is all she manages to breathe out.

“I know I’m being wildly inappropriate…but I thought maybe…I don’t know. Maybe I misread…I just wanted to say...” He’s back to rambling again.

A blush has crept across his face as well. Is that a new development?

Or has it been there other times, just hidden when he lays face down on the table? Well, if Rey is ready to admit that her feelings towards Ben have been anything but professional, she might as well go for broke.

With a shrug and an internal ‘ _why the hell not?’_ Rey leans forward, closing the gap between herself and Ben and putting a stop to his incoherent chatter with her lips against his.

Ben freezes for just a moment before he’s kissing her back with fervor. He twists under the sheet to face Rey better and the awkward drape of the fabric reminds her that as much as she _has_ seen of this man, she hasn’t seen it _all_ and she fully intends to rectify that.

She pushes him down against the table and kisses him fiercely, just as she had wanted to since that first day, anchoring her fingers in his dark, luscious hair and nipping at his lips with her teeth. He groans at her bite and it’s more beautiful than she could have imagined.

Suddenly the faint voices of the receptionist and the other massage therapist Rey shares this office with as they walk down the hall breaks through the haze Rey finds herself in and she stills. If any member of the licensing board walked in on this, they’d be mortified.

_Eh, like she cares right now.  
_

_Well, maybe she cares a little._

Rey clears her throat and stands up straight, smoothing her hair and top with her hands. Ben…is at a little more of a disadvantage, but she can’t help but smile at his startled, disheveled state.

“You know,” she says with a smirk, “if you want a _happy ending_ maybe we should take this elsewhere.”

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was a prompt fill from months ago, so I never got it beta'd - any mistakes are all on me!


End file.
